


Feel the Fever

by astrospecial



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Angst, Dorks in Love, First Time, Homophobia, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Omega Verse, Omega/Omega, Sexism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-29
Updated: 2019-10-29
Packaged: 2021-01-06 02:49:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21219326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astrospecial/pseuds/astrospecial
Summary: Caspar helps Linhardt with his first heat.





	Feel the Fever

**Author's Note:**

> Hiya,
> 
> The homophobia/internalized homophobia and sexism are ONLY about the A/B/O genders. (So, there's no homophobia about M/M or F/F relationships, but there IS homophobia in regards to Omega/Omega relationships). There's also mentions of mpreg but nothing major. With that said, some of what's described in this work may mirror real life. Therefore, please express caution in reading this if you think it might cause you harm!
> 
> Thanks and I hope you enjoy!

At first, Caspar had thought Linhardt was a beta. They were thirteen, and Caspar had already presented. Right on schedule!

Except when Caspar was supposed to have his first rut, he had gotten a heat.

He’ll never forget the way his father’s face fell when the nurse had told him what Caspar had presented as. Nor will his alpha brother’s cruel laugh escape his ears.

After a year, he had more than come to terms with being an omega and all of its annoyances. The heats were a pain, but at the same time, he was grateful his father hadn’t shipped him off to the highest bidder. And, of course, whenever he got real fired up about something, the stupid alpha and beta boys would say he had an omega-complex. He found it hard to care that much when he got scolded for picking fights with those same boys; omegas weren’t supposed to defend their own honor, but Caspar couldn’t twiddle his thumbs while they jeered at him.

Once, he may have gone too far: the alpha guy was on the ground, and he had just kept kicking, and kicking, and kicking. When Caspar had come back to himself, the kid was knocked out, and Caspar had been forced to haul him to the castle to face his father. All he could think about as he trekked up that hill, crying, was what would happen to him if he had killed him. 

It was the only time Caspar had ever been whipped, leaving stinging, bloody welts across his back. But after that, his father seemed to have understood something: a martial arts instructor took residence in their home, and Caspar readily learned the art of self-defense under the watchful eye of his father.

The silly thing was that Caspar didn’t even remember what had been said that had sent him into a rage. 

But when Linhardt came to visit, none of that mattered. Linhardt didn’t ask when he visited a week after the incident, and Caspar teared up when he sat down. He didn’t ask when Caspar was sullen because his father had introduced him to an alpha noble looking for an omega bride. Lin was always silent when it mattered most. 

Therefore, as best friends, it was natural that their presentations would follow each other. But a year went by, and Linhardt still hadn’t announced anything. Which was in true Linhardt-fashion. Caspar’s father hadn’t mentioned any newly presented alpha or beta von Hevring boys, either. Truth be told, Caspar was much too preoccupied with his own business to worry about Linhardt’s. He only thought of Linhardt’s secondary after the thought had been forced upon him on a painfully hot summer day. 

“You know,” Linhardt said, healing Caspar’s black eye, “you don’t have to prove yourself by getting in fights. Are you still thirteen?” 

Caspar stared at the sun and pouted. He was lying on Lin’s lap, and his split lip stung when he spoke: “You should have heard the things they were saying!”

Linhardt paused, and the pain came flooding back to Caspar’s eye. “About you? Haven’t you heard them all before? They aren’t original.”

“Well—“ Caspar flushed. He barely remembered what happened except for the most embarrassing parts. Linhardt was going to be so mad at him. Nobody hated Caspar fighting more than Lin, disregarding Caspar’s father. And Caspar couldn’t even make the fight sound cool! He’d lost that right when Linhardt found him lying on the town’s pavement, beaten bloody, and lost it again when Linhardt dragged him to the shaded hill. “They were saying stuff about you.” 

Linhardt wiped the dried blood off Caspar’s lip with his sleeve, then went back to his eye. “What exactly?”

“I don’t want to say it. It’s awful.” His voice was thick, eyes burning with tears that he refused to let fall. “You’d think they’d know better than to say that stuff…” 

Caspar had been minding his own business, strolling in town, when he heard a group of alphas talking next to an apartment building. He slowed his gait. He was in time to hear them brag about how they’d breed that von Hevring omega bitch when he presented. Caspar’s blood rushed to his ears, and he couldn’t think, could do nothing else but run towards them screeching. It was hard enough for him to win a one-on-one fight; he didn’t need to be making it any more difficult by trying to fight three sixteen-year-olds at once. He could only hope his father would understand  _ why _ and decide it wasn’t a bad enough offense for a whipping. 

Linhardt didn’t say anything, and his white magic was unbearably warm. Caspar wiped the sweat off his forehead. 

“Linhardt? You’re a beta, right? Haven’t you presented?”

His head tilted to the side like Caspar had managed to usurp the last stupidest thing he had said. Some of his hair fell into his eyes. “Where did you get that idea?”

“Oh. I don’t know. Well, I hope you’re a beta. Being omega sucks.”

A blink. Then Linhardt yawned, smoothed a rush of white magic across Caspar’s almost healed eye. “I’m sleepy. Let’s sleep, Caspar.”

Caspar found himself yawning, too, and the subject of betas and omegas and alphas didn’t come up again until they were at Garreg Mach together.

Hormones and heats weren’t so bad when you weren’t surrounded by hundreds of newly presented students going through the same thing. Walking into the Monastery for the first time was like getting slapped in the face. Caspar had almost fainted from the disgusting cocktail of smells: alpha musk, omega sweetness, BO, sweat, and flowery perfume. He was forced to walk around with his nose covered until he got used to it. How his house leader Edelgard managed to look so serene amongst it all was jealousy-inducing, but he supposed that was an alpha and future emperor for you.

Yet Linhardt barely noticed the raging hormones around him. When Caspar asked how he could stand it, Linhardt told him that he was too tired to care about stuff like that. Caspar hadn’t talked to him for a day after that— even betas weren’t immune to urges! That was when Caspar realized that Linhardt hadn’t told him if he presented yet, and in anger, he didn’t talk to Linhardt for another day. 

Which meant he was forced to listen to Professor Hanneman’s talk about proper heat and rut etiquette without having anybody next to him to laugh with. In Linhardt’s place was an annoying alpha girl who smelled sharp. It made Caspar think of mustard and miss Linhardt terribly. Hanneman droned on— tell a teacher or staff member if you’re going into heat, they’ll get you what you need, don’t rush into bonding— blah, blah, blah. Caspar never wanted to hear Hanneman stutter out the word ‘slick’ ever again. 

By the end, he all but fled to Linhardt’s side outside the Black Eagles classroom. After smelling Mustard Girl the whole time, he  _ needed  _ a palate cleanser. Subtly, he leaned up and smelled Linhardt’s neck.

“Alright, Caspar,” Linhardt said, smiling. Caspar reddened, but he was more confused than embarrassed. Linhardt didn’t smell like anything. There wasn't any hint of beta or the smell of clean linen he’d come to associate with him.

“Where’s your scent?”

“What scent?”

“Don’t play dumb! You usually smell like laundry.” Caspar stopped himself before he told him he smelled nice. His love life was complicated enough as it was; before he left, his father had him meet with so many alphas he hadn’t even remembered their names. Not that he had cared to. In the end, it didn’t matter if they smelled repulsive or  _ were  _ repulsive if they had a nice enough omega price. It didn’t stop Caspar from fantasizing about Linhardt, but he was usually better about tempering those dreams during the daylight. Besides, if Linhardt wasn’t an alpha, there was no use. But if Linhardt had a smell like Mustard Girl, Caspar wouldn’t ever consider him as a mate.

He doubted Linhardt was capable of smelling bad, but he’d never say that aloud. 

Linhardt looked at him like Caspar was very, very dumb. It never had any bite to it after ten years. “Caspar, you were smelling my laundry.”

Linhardt could be so difficult sometimes, and it made Caspar’s temper flare. But only a little. Mustard Girl and her gaggle of friends were looking at them as Caspar’s voice rose. “Yes, but you don’t have a  _ scent!” _

Somebody laughed halfway across the yard, and shame colored Caspar’s cheeks. Fuck. They were laughing at them because, of course, Caspar had to open his big stupid mouth and broadcast Linhardt’s business to the whole monastery. “I— I didn’t realize you hadn’t...” Sure, Linhardt wasn’t the only person who hadn’t presented, but it was nothing to be proud of. And now the whole academy might as well have known! 

Linhardt shrugged and combed some fingers through his ponytail. “It doesn’t bother me. In fact, I’m quite happy about it.” Then he started to walk away. Caspar ran to catch up with his stride. 

“Don’t you feel like you’re missing out?”

“On what? Being uncomfortable and horny all the time? I’ll pass. Whatever I’m going to be, I’d rather it be just this. Free to nap when I please, unable to smell all your hormones...I think it’s a blessing.”

Caspar laughed. At least Linhardt didn’t care that he hadn’t presented, but Caspar’s heart still prickled when he thought about his mistake. “You’re weird. You would understand if you presented.” 

Though while Caspar’s laugh died out, he wondered what he did understand. He knew he hated the disgusting smells. He hated his heats, where his fingers and toys were never enough and he was too embarrassed to leave his room. He hated how people looked down at him for being an omega, how he could prove himself with his fists over and over and he’d still be the little bitch with the omega-complex. Maybe Linhardt had it right, but he couldn’t admit it. Hating himself did nothing in this world: it wouldn’t make him taller, wouldn’t give him a Crest, wouldn’t make him an alpha.

He covered the tears gathering in his eyes with a yawn. He already thought of that shit enough while he lay awake in bed; he didn’t need it infecting his time with Linhardt. As they walked down to the pond, he asked, mouth once again running faster than his self-preservation, “Do you get, you know, horny still?”

For a moment, Caspar thought he wasn’t going to answer. But then he nodded, eyes fixed on the pond, and Caspar turned away. He wasn’t sure why knowing that Linhardt’s dick got hard did something to him, but on further thought, it was painfully obvious. Somehow he thought every teenager who hadn’t presented by now was a celibate monk, no urges whatsoever, and that Linhardt would be no different. Hell, the dark part of Caspar was wondering if Linhardt might not  _ have  _ a secondary. But now there was possibility, possibility that Linhardt might, that their fathers might...he couldn’t finish the sentence in his mind. He just couldn’t. 

Too late. All the dreams and wishes he’d compiled from late nights during his heats, the ones where Linhardt was visiting but he couldn’t see him because he was so aroused it hurt to walk, came flooding back to him. He couldn’t help seeing Linhardt as an alpha,  _ his  _ alpha, a marriage arranged by their fathers but with no complaints from either of the grooms. Fuck. He was hard and already a little slick, imagining their wedding night, and all the nights after. How gentle Lin would be, with his long hair and long fingers. 

Now every alpha and omega and beta was going to know that he was a horny creep. He could feel their eyes on them, knew that they were starting to smell him. If he didn’t leave this moment, Linhardt would see and then where would Caspar be? He sprinted away with a shout of, “See you later, Linhardt!” and didn’t look back to see his reaction. 

As it turned out, Caspar started his heat two days afterward and couldn’t go to class for five. Linhardt gave him his makeup work, and seeing him was unbearable enough as it was, he was thankful he didn’t smell like anything. He spent his heat fingering himself, trying to read the textbooks, giving up and going back to masturbating. 

When he returned to class, everyone was sympathetic. Apparently, he was one of the only unlucky ones to have a heat cycle of once a month. Ferdinand got his every three or so months, and Bernadetta’s was every two months. The rest of his class were alphas, ‘side Hubert, a few beta minor nobles, and, of course, Linhardt. Caspar sulked for a while, alpha scent swirling around him.

A few months later, everything fell into a routine. He started to lag because of all the class he was missing, but after a few days of nonstop begging, Linhardt tutored him with the excuse of ‘it would be more of a hassle to hear you complain about having to redo the year.’ Professor Hanneman was sympathetic to his plight and offered help in his stumbling, yet somewhat sweet way. Some of the Black Eagle alphas went into rut. Not anyone in his class, but even the lingering stench from the previous class’s rutting alpha made him want to throw up. Of course, Caspar could never be lucky in life. 

Petra ended up getting hers in the middle of a lecture. 

She mentioned feeling ‘heat on her forehead,’ then she was standing and making a beeline toward Bernadetta who was frozen in her seat. The room flooded with cinnamon, and Caspar fled to the window and stuck his head outside. He breathed in deep, forced his eyes shut and tried to ignore the noise behind him. When he wasn’t in immediate danger of vomiting up his lunch, he turned back to see that Edelgard had jumped in between them. Petra’s eyes were dark, and the low growl that came from her throat made Caspar shiver. She had mentioned before how, in Brigid, unmated alphas and omegas weren’t allowed to be near her. Caspar winced for her as Henneman pulled her out of the room. Garreg Mach was difficult enough for Caspar, and he was used to seeing alphas every day. 

With the Professor gone, Edelgard was in charge. She sighed. “Everyone, let’s continue to focus on our studies. This isn’t the first time we’ve seen a rut.”

Students turned to their books with hushed whispers that grew in volume, until everyone was gossiping like they  _ hadn’t  _ seen a rut. A few betas were crowding around poor Bernadetta, asking if she and Petra were dating, or if her heat was due. She looked like she was going to pass out from shock.

Caspar sunk into his chair next to Linhardt and pulled his collar up to his nose. If there wasn’t a 100 percent chance of Edelgard beating him into next Tuesday if he ditched class, he would have already left. Ferdinand had his head buried in his arms, but Caspar wasn’t sure if it was because Petra’s rut got him hot and bothered or something else. Caspar couldn’t think of anything else less arousing than an alpha’s rut— all he could think of was that group of kids three years ago. What would they have done to him if they had been in a rut when he passed by? He knew that he could defend himself from unwanted alphas now, but then he was only a child. Even now, Bernadetta hadn’t tried to protect herself, and Petra couldn’t have been in the right mind if this was one of her first ruts around omegas. He was dwelling on all the ways he could have protected Bernie if Edelgard hadn’t stepped in, ruts and Petra’s fearsome strength be damned, when something warm hit his shoulder. 

“You smell nice,” Linhardt said, nuzzling deeper into the junction between Caspar’s shoulder and neck. “Like blueberry ice cream.” Caspar was more than aware of his peer’s eyes on them, as Linhardt casually shoved his nose into Caspar’s scent gland. The warmth from Linhardt’s sighs was seeping into Caspar’s shirt.

From far away, someone who sounded like Ferdinand asked incredulously if Linhardt was scenting Caspar.

“You okay, buddy?” Caspar laughed nervously. In response, Linhardt clung to his arm and shifted closer. Linhardt opened his mouth and sucked Caspar’s neck, and Caspar was going to die. He was unmated, a virgin, and no one had ever dared to do anything near his scent gland. A sharp jolt of arousal hit him, and he couldn’t help but shift away from Linhardt’s unending ministrations. As if in rebuke, Linhardt’s teeth scraped against his skin. He couldn’t help but tremble as a rush of slick escaped him. He was usually nose-blind to his pheromones, but there was no escaping what Linhardt had dubbed as ‘blueberry ice cream’ now. “Um—” 

“Oh, Goddess,” said Dorothea, walking straight into their personal space and sniffing exaggeratedly. The rest of the class followed her, surrounded them in what should have been a private moment. “Little Lin’s going into heat.” 

No, there was no way Linhardt went into heat because of Petra. It just wasn’t possible. Well, it was very possible, but the thought made Caspar want to punch somebody. He glared at Dorothea, even though the effect was dampened by his red face. He cleared his throat, but his voice came out strained anyway. “This isn’t something to joke about! What’re we supposed to do?”

“How can you even smell it, Dorothea?” Ferdinand asked, nose twisted. “I can only smell rut.”

“Of course you can’t smell it. You’re an omega,” said Hubert from his corner in the back of the room. “It doesn’t look like Linhardt is interested in any alpha right now, but I suppose we should probably get him out of the classroom.”

Another flush, this time of shame. Caspar had heard it all back when he first presented and showed absolutely no interest in alphas or betas. He met them all. Each was more boring and smelled worse than the last, but Caspar’s disinterest didn’t stop his father from making him sit through tea with them. The only person whose scent was more than tolerable to him was Linhardt, and now—

They were both omegas. And Linhardt was sucking on his scent gland, and Caspar’s underwear was getting wet. A terrible image of his seat when he got up flashed through his mind.

Goddess save whoever broke the uncomfortable silence because Caspar was not going to risk having his voice break into a moan.

Bernadetta, sweet and pure Bernadetta, saved Caspar’s social life. “Um, guys? If he’s going into heat, we can’t just let him stay here! I’m starting to smell him too…”

“Right!” Caspar latched onto the moment by jumping from his seat. Linhardt huffed and looked up at him with hooded eyes filled with heat, and, yep, everyone could see the tent in Caspar’s pants. “I’ll take him to his room.” He hoisted Linhardt up, clutched him by his waist, ignored Linhardt’s tiny groan, and fled the classroom before something that would ruin Caspar’s future and reputation forever happened. As they ran to Linhardt’s room, Linhardt made a valiant effort to keep sniffing Caspar’s scent gland despite their height difference. 

They made it to his room in record time. Linhardt’s room was a mess, with books strewn about everywhere in random piles. It would be a pain to have a heat in, but he supposed it was going to have to do. Caspar locked the door and set about arranging Linhardt’s bed in a way that would be semi-comfortable. Then he raided his drawers— of course, there were no toys, no lube, nothing at all to help him with his heat. Obviously. This was his first heat. 

“Caspar,” Linhardt said, wrapping himself around him. Lin was slender enough and Caspar short enough that Linhardt’s body almost enveloped him completely. Caspar’s hand froze to the drawer’s handle, the rest of his body flooding with Linhardt’s incredible feverishness. “I’m in heat?”

“That’s what Dorothea said. It’s only just started...”

  
“Feels...warm. You smell good.”

Caspar winced. It was going to get worse for Linhardt. That warmth was going to turn to heat. Then it would burn.

In the small room, it was impossible not to smell pear blossoms— Linhardt. Underneath it was that unmistakable linen, and it made Caspar shake. Linhardt surely could feel it. But he didn’t care. Everything was unfair. So fucking unfair. Why did Linhardt have to smell so mouthwatering? Why couldn’t he be like him, and have Petra’s stupid alpha cinnamon send him into a tizzy?

“Go lay down,” Caspar said, trying to force a modicum of strength into his voice.

“I don’t want to,” Linhardt said. He pressed his lips to Caspar’s neck, his breath warm. “I only want to…”

“That’s the heat.” Caspar extracted himself from Linhardt’s embrace, and although it pained him, he moved to the far corner in the room. “Um, I don’t have anything to help you…”

“Then you’ll have to help me.” Linhardt flopped onto the bed, and in record time, his clothes were on the floor. His pale skin was flushed, his hair mussed. He sighed softly as his head hit the pillow. “I don’t know how this works.”   
  


Caspar squeezed his eyes shut. Don’t look at his dick, don’t look at his dick— his eyes opened on their own accord and he wished they hadn’t. Linhardt didn’t need any instruction. His back was high in the air and he was already working two fingers inside his hole.

“I can feel you staring,” Linhardt said, voice breathy. “Please.”

Oh, Goddess. Blossoms and linen were choking him, and he wanted to bathe in Linhardt’s scent, drown in it. Before he knew it, he was stepping closer. His hand hovered over Linhardt’s back, and as if on command, Linhardt pressed into him. Underneath his palm, his skin was sweaty and intoxicatingly smooth. A desperate moan escaped Linhardt’s lips. Caspar’s eyes flicked to the motion that caused it. The flex of his hand could have only meant that he had found the spot that drove Caspar up the wall, was crooking his fingers into it. 

Caspar pulled away like he had been burned. He couldn’t do this, couldn’t do this to Linhardt. All of his fantasies, all of his late-nights were in front of him, but now they would never be realized. Linhardt the alpha could have been possible. Linhardt the beta, too. But there was no room for another omega in Caspar’s future. Even if they bonded here, it wouldn’t matter.  _ This  _ would only complicate things, only make the separate lives they were bound to live harder.

“Caspar...what are you doing?”

“Nothing,” he said. Linhardt turned and looked up at him, his eyes cloudy. “I can’t. We’re omegas.”

Linhardt slipped another finger inside himself. He didn’t stop pumping his pale fingers in and out of himself as he spoke. Caspar’s clothes were far too tight to think.

“That’s...good. Isn’t it? We won’t get pregnant…”

“But our fathers…”

How Linhardt managed to stay so calm in his first heat to string words together, Caspar had no idea. “Won’t need to know.” Linhardt faced him, his face red, eyes pleading, tears threatening to overspill. With his free hand, he grabbed Caspar’s wrist. “It hurts, Caspar. Please, it hurts.”

Caspar steadied his breath. He couldn’t think. Linhardt’s body quivered on the bed, muscles in his arm shifting with each twist of his hand. He couldn’t think. His dick was throbbing, he was so wet, he couldn’t think. “What do you want me to do?” Caspar’s voice was pitiful.

“Touch me. I’m going to die.”

Caspar couldn’t help but smile, couldn’t help but lean down and kiss Linhardt’s cheek. He’d said that he was going to die to his father when his first heat came, had wished he had died for months after his presentation. Even a memory like that, full of humiliation, could turn sweet with Linhardt in front of him. 

He wasted no time in pulling Caspar to him, surrounding him in a crushing kiss. It was clumsy, their teeth gnashing together, but Linhardt was gripping Caspar’s sleeves and moaning into his mouth and Caspar wanted to do this forever. When they pulled apart, they were both panting.

Caspar tore off his uniform, his underwear. He hovered over Linhardt on his haunches, suddenly unsure and very aroused. Underneath him, Linhardt stroked his own dick, biting his lip.

“You know I can’t knot you—”

“I don’t care. Do you?”

He would have loved to be an alpha. But if that was the case, would he have been with Linhardt right now? 

“Tell me what you want.”

“I want you to...do I have to say it?” 

Caspar shook his head, lined himself up with Linhardt’s hole. Linhardt’s eyes fluttered shut, and Caspar kissed him before sinking into his slick warmth. 

Caspar shivered with the effort it took not to come right then and there before he’d barely started. Linhardt, too, was shaking, his nails digging crescents into Caspar’s back. It shouldn’t have been possible for someone to be as wet as Lin was. He pressed his forehead to Linhardt’s shoulder and licked the sweat off his skin.

“It feels— oh, Goddess— move, please, Caspar.”

Caspar did as he was told. He couldn’t have stayed still for any longer. He fucked into Linhardt brutally hard, as fast as he could go. It didn’t matter that Linhardt’s nails were raising marks, that Linhardt was sucking close enough to his scent gland to be worrisome. All that mattered was that it was Linhardt underneath him, that they were together, that their first time was with each other. 

Linhardt moaned his name so sweetly that Caspar couldn’t hold on any longer. He came with a groan, buried his face in Linhardt’s neck and inhaled peach blossoms and linen. He resisted the urge to break the skin there and make Linhardt his; he kissed his jaw instead as he pulled out.

“Linhardt,” he said, stroking him. Linhardt’s hickey-stridden throat bobbed. “Linhardt, I love you, I love you.”

He came in his hand. Caspar wiped the mess on the sheets, flopped to his side. The bed was too small for both of them on their backs, so Caspar pulled Linhardt into his arms.

Linhardt kissed him, soft and unhurried. Like Caspar hadn’t just fucked him. Like Caspar hadn’t said the one thing he had promised never to say.

For once, Caspar had no energy to speak. He didn’t want to, either. Slowly, he felt himself drift off into sleep.

His eyes peeled open with a start, not even a few minutes later. Somebody was knocking at the door. Linhardt groaned, buried his face further into Caspar’s chest.

“Ignore it. I want to sleep.”

“Hello?” came Professor Manuela’s voice from outside. “Linhardt? In five seconds I’m going to have to break the lock…”

Even Linhardt seemed wide awake at that. Caspar jumped out of the bed, shucked on his pants, and threw open the door. Sunlight streamed in, and to her credit, all Professor Manuela did was arch an eyebrow at Caspar’s state of undress. In her hands was a basket that Caspar knew all too intimately; every student got these gift baskets when they went through their first cycle at the Monastery. There was a bunch of literature and brochures on safe-sex and other stuff that not one student cared about, but there was always one toy in the basket. Whenever concerned parents wrote angry letters about the basket, it was well-known that the monastery sent a form letter back about the alternative: students using things that were, in no way, shape, or form, meant to be used to get off with.

“Caspar,” Professor Manuela said. “You’re an omega, aren’t you? Have you been helping Linhardt with his first heat?”

Caspar nodded. He could have kissed her— well, he was very thankful she didn’t mention the obvious, but he’d also get (rightfully) slapped and it was  _ Professor Manuela.  _ There was no reason to kiss her when Linhardt was behind him, naked and in bed. Still, he’d have to send her flowers or something nice for not commenting on his lack of shirt, hickeys, mussed hair, or the smell of sex leaking out of the room.

“Wonderful. I’ll leave this with you, then, and get out of your hair. I wish I would have been able to talk to him before he got situated. Would you tell him to visit me after his heat?” She handed him the basket, and with a smile that said she  _ knew _ , she left.

Caspar sighed and closed the door. He’d worry about Professor Manuela later. Linhardt had sat up in the bed and was watching, sleepy-eyed. “Did she want to tell you her life-story, too?”

He laughed and deposited the basket on Linhardt’s desk, digging through the junk to get the really good stuff. There, at the bottom: a box of chocolates. Arguably the only good thing about heats was that people made sure to give you your favorite food. 

Caspar waved the box in front of Linhardt’s face, before lightly smacking him on the nose with it. Linhardt snatched it out of his hands, looking properly scandalized, and Caspar kissed him without thinking about it. Linhardt stilled, and, fuck,  _ this  _ was what Caspar had expected. This was why he almost didn’t help Linhardt, why he wished he hadn’t thought with his dick.

Caspar moved to pull away, but then Linhardt’s hand came to his jaw, and Linhardt was kissing him back. He eased into it, opened his mouth and sighed into the kiss. When they separated, Lin’s eyes were soft and his smile softer.    
  


“I don’t regret anything, Caspar. So don’t worry about that.”

When Caspar laughed, it came out as a sob. He scrubbed his tears away. He hadn’t wanted to cry, but it was inevitable. He always cried when it came to Linhardt. “Sorry. Sorry. I know, I’m overreacting, but…”

“It’s alright. Let’s eat chocolate now.”

Caspar didn’t know that those few words could make him so happy. But they did.

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> These boys...I love them.  
Thanks for reading!!! Lemme know if you see any grammar/spelling errors. I edited this one rather quickly.  
Title is from the Kylie Minogue song Fever.
> 
> Edit 10/31/19: Added a relationship tag and expanded on the warning in the first author note.   
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